


doesn't mean our brains will change (from hand grenades)

by ObsessedWithFandom



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: But we all know that already, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Hux just stays around for the ride, Hux's father is an asshole, M/M, POV Hux, Protective Hux, Ren is provocative, during TFA, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 02:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8693209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessedWithFandom/pseuds/ObsessedWithFandom
Summary: As Hux stepped away – from the podium, his army, their salute – a warm glow lit up in his stomach. He might’ve called it pride, if the elder Hux had not insisted on training such emotions out of him at a young age.Maybe he does deserve a little pride.-Later, with a spectacularly drunk and surprisingly quiet Kylo Ren curled into his side, Hux will be forced to reflect that everything might not be as straightforward.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Heathens" by Twenty One Pilots.
> 
> Warnings:  
> \- Mentions of character death (that would be the Hosnian System people and Luke's padawans)  
> \- Mentions of violence  
> \- Non-con memory-viewing

When Hux stood on the podium and delivered the speech, saw the red of his weapon and felt it reflected in his eyes, all he could feel was a heady sense of power.

They had triumphed. They had won the battle against the Republic. Never again would the foolish Resistance or the untouchable Republic underestimate the First Order.

As he stepped away – from the podium, his army, their salute – a warm glow lit up in his stomach. He might’ve called it pride, if the elder Hux had not insisted on training such emotions out of him at a young age.

Hux can still remember him droning on and on and on, always the same words, until they beat the same rhythm in his head as his heart.

_Pride comes before the fall. Pride comes before the fall. Pride comes before the fall._

_What fall?_ Hux asks his father scornfully in his mind. _What could possibly stop me now?_

Maybe he does deserve a little pride.

 

* * *

 

Later, with a spectacularly drunk and surprisingly quiet Kylo Ren curled into his side, Hux will be forced to reflect that everything might not be as straightforward.

Half a cycle after his speech, Hux looks up from his datapad and Millicent when the door chimes. He sighs, scrubs a hand over his face, and stands up. He’d expected to be left alone for another quarter cycle, at least. Well, back to work.

Millicent is guided away into the refresher. Hux hates to stow her away in there, but the Supreme Leader is clear. She’s not to be present in casual conversation.

He swings the door open to find – Kylo Ren.

‘Lord Ren,’ Hux says, his voice completely flat. He hadn’t meant to sound quite so sarcastic, but he’s overworked and exhausted and still confused about how to feel about the destruction of the Hosnian system and – alright – it’s the only way he can’t show any of the surprise he feels so acutely. It’s completely unlike his co-commander to show up at his door, and that in itself is already unsettling. For all Ren’s spontaneity, Hux had started to think he at least had a measure of predicting the Knight’s movements. Now it’s back to the start. ‘What are you doing here?’

A shiver seems to pass through Ren’s body, but he says nothing.

Hux sighs again, presses his fingers to his temple. He definitely does not have the energy for this, but turning the Supreme Leader’s pet away from his door would be frowned upon. So he opens the door wider and motions wordlessly in.

Hux needn’t look behind him to know Ren is following him – he can hear those great black boots crashing on his floor – so he doesn’t. He sits down at his desk, steeples his fingers and rests his chin on them, and waits for Ren to sit down in the chair opposite him.

Not that Ren could possibly follow such an obvious hint. There’s a thump, and Hux just barely resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. This cannot be happening to him.

Finally he looks over. Ren is on the floor, leaning against Hux’s bed, a bottle of liquor in his hand. How had Hux not spotted the bottle before? It certainly explained the swaying.

And then it finally hits him – his co-commander is sitting on his floor, drunk. Hux is so tired he almost lets the crazed laugh escape. Maybe he could do with some of that alcohol, too.

Without a word Hux settles next to Ren and grabs the bottle. Somewhere along the line Ren’s removed  his helmet, so his surprised expression is clear to see, but just as soon it smooths over and he shrugs.

Hux takes a swig and tries not to grimace. He’s had worse, certainly, but he’d gotten spoiled by the fine liquor once he had gained rank in the First Order. Stars, he didn’t know how Ren had survived – he squinted at the bottle – three-quarters of the stuff.

‘What’s going on, Ren?’ he asks, voice almost inaudible. He would never let his troops hear him like this, weak and useless and not capable of commanding a weapon like Starkiller, but for now it’s fine. That’s the funny thing about the two commanders – they’ve loathed each other; have been nothing short of rivals in their workspace since day one.

And – are the only ones the other will turn to for comfort.

There’s some sort of pattern in Ren’s breath that Hux can’t understand, a few shallow, quick breaths followed by drawn-out, deep breaths. It’s almost as if he has some new wound, freshly healed, that he doesn’t want to reopen. Knowing Ren, Hux wouldn’t put it past him.

‘I can feel them,’ comes Ren’s voice, equally as quiet, and for a moment Hux mistakes it for a child’s before he turns his head. Ren’s head is tilted back, eyes closed and eyelashes casting shadows against the high spots of colour and the too-pale skin. For the first time Hux thinks he looks a little sickly, and almost feels sympathy before he catches himself.

‘Who?’ he asks.

Ren’s eyes have cracked open, slivers of black pierced through by the intense lighting in the room. ‘The people who were in the Hosnian system.’

Hux feels cold. There must be icy fingers slicing through his heart, but when he looks down, there’s no mark, no blood.

Ren continues on, eyes unfocused, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. ‘Some of them were sleeping, but most weren’t. It was just after night, and they were outside.’

Hux wants Ren to stop, needs him to stop.

‘They saw the lights, but they didn’t know what it meant. They didn’t know they were staring at their very destruction. The children didn’t realise, but the adults did, after a while. There wasn’t much they could do. They couldn’t hide the children or save themselves or – or anything.’

There’s some deeper meaning underlining his words, but all Hux can think is _stop, stop, stop_.

‘The pain starts quickly. Everyone is in agony – they’re blinded by the red light, there is no denying that they will very soon die, _where is their child?_ The thing is, they can hear all the screams, and somewhere there is a child whose voice joins the screams. Most people don’t know it, but it takes a long time to forget the sound of a child’s scream.’

The volume of Ren’s voice has gotten progressively lower until it’s barely a whisper, and now silence reigns in the room as Hux stares at Ren, who closes his eyes and leans back again.

Again, Hux gets the feeling there’s some sort of context he doesn’t quite understand, and wonders what Ren has seen – and heard – in his life to be able to make such an observation. And the way Ren tells it all, like some fairy tale he’s reading from his datapad... Well, Hux would be lying if he said a shiver doesn’t pass up his spine.

‘And how do you know this all?’ he asks. His voice is quiet, as if to preserve the peace in his quarters.

Ren doesn’t open his eyes, but his lips quirk into a sardonic little half-smile. ‘The Force.’

He’s given Hux this same answer again and again, but this time there’s a ring of truth in it. Not that Hux is at all satisfied with the short answer. He had been told many times over what a negative characteristic curiosity is, but he can’t quite bring himself to care. ‘And that means?’

Now Ren looks at him, surprise colouring his gaze, before heaving a long-suffering sigh. ‘The Force is an energy-field that surrounds us. Those who are sensitive to it can use it to control their surroundings and feel the emotions of others.’ His voice briefly takes on a curious quality, as if he’s reciting something he learnt long ago, but then he continues on in his normal matter-of-fact voice. ‘It’s not mindreading – I can’t hear individual thoughts from such a distance – but when people feel an emotion very strongly, you can pick it up. Joy, sorrow, anger, fear, pain. When so many people – a whole system full of them – feel the same emotion, it can be quite overwhelming for a Force-user. Hence this.’ Ren gestured to the bottle with a sarcastic wave of his hand.

‘So, what?’ Hux asked, curiosity once again aroused against his better judgement. ‘The alcohol numbs the emotion-feeling?’

‘In a manner of speaking, certainly. It numbs the part of my mind that uses the Force and therefore the part that perceives others’ emotions.’

‘And has this happened before?’

‘I’ve heard about it. The first Death Star, the one that destroyed Alderaan and killed my – the one that destroyed Alderaan. My unc – my first Master, he told me how the pain nearly destroyed him. And that – that was one planet. This is a whole system.’

Hux has to quell down some feeling that is definitely not guilt. Because that would be utterly ridiculous.

There’s another emotion, though, and it will not be pushed down. Ownership, he realizes. If he has hurt anyone, there is nothing to do but to own up to causing that pain. He holds out a hand, hesitating slightly before saying, ‘Show it to me.’

Ren stares at him, bottle of alcohol utterly forgotten. His face is still utterly pale, lights doing nothing to illuminate his dark, dark irises, his soft mouth open.

Just when Hux is starting to think that this might’ve been a mistake, Ren blinks, closes his mouth, and takes Hux’s hand.

 

* * *

 

 

At first there is only darkness, Hux standing in a big, empty space with only the phantom feeling of a hand around his own to keep him company.

He considers calling out, if only to break the expectant silence, but then there’s a source of light and Hux walks towards it without a second thought.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a memory of a much younger Ren. He’s clutched to a man – Uncle, warmth, love echoing through his head – but it isn’t enough – he’s reaching to an older woman – Mother, pretty soft hair in braids, nice to play with, need, need, need – but she’s walking away – cry, scream, maybe she’ll come back, she doesn’t come back, abandonment, grief, grief so deep he’s submerged in it –

 

* * *

 

 

Hux backs out of the memory with a gasp, heart racing as he struggles for breath through the blind panic. To feel so deeply, at such a young age... Hux can hardly imagine it.

There’s another memory, where Ren is a little older. It looks harmless enough, so Hux touches it –

 

* * *

 

 

He shudders, lightsaber clasped tight in one hand. It’s blue, but not for long, if the way the shadows around his mind tightens. _Soon, my boy_ , a voice that can only be Snoke’s whispers. Soon you will have vanquished all your rivals. _They will finally respect you for who you are, but it will be too late for them. They will be destroyed, and you will take your rightful place at my side._

Again there’s a multitude of emotion, though Hux has more luck sorting through it this time. Pride is foremost on Ren’s mind – he thinks me worthy, finally I will have what is mine, _Grandfather_ – and then a sort of anger, mixed through with a healthy dose of heady anticipation – revenge, revenge against those who wronged me, Uncle will pay for thinking me lesser – and behind it all a deep sickness, as his mind sought to rebel against the darkness, the subtle manipulations.

And then – the flashes of sabers, catching against each other, blocking, defending, striking like they’ve all been taught – but ultimately they pass each other by. There’s a bellow of pain as the blade bites into his arm, but his fellow padawan cannot stop the blue saber from blossoming in her chest.

She’s the last padawan to stand between him and the temple – him and the younglings – and he takes a second to mourn her bravery. She could’ve lived; they could’ve all lived, if only they had joined him. It was their own foolishness that caused this.

After the second has passed, he moves on to where the tall, fearless temple stands. Not for long. Soon, the landscape is stained by the screams of children, only the ruins of a once-pristine building to show what had happened.

 

* * *

 

 

Hux surfaces out of the memory with a lot more ease than before, and then finds himself with a few seconds to consider what he had seen. Well. At least that answered the question of where Ren had heard children’s screams before.

Suddenly another presence emerges into the space with him, and Hux can feel Ren’s awareness before the two memories are quickly banished. Then the knight himself appears, right next to Hux, still holding his hand.

And then Hux is in the memory.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s on the bridge when Starkiller’s fire hits the system, can appreciate the terror this will cause the Republic, but he’s got enough Force-induced foresight to know that he has to get off the bridge and away from people, _now._

Wordlessly he stalks off to his quarters; the staff experienced enough to know nothing is out of the ordinary. They jump out of his way like fleas under his boots, and takes a measure of amusement out of the knowledge. The hidden smile is wiped clean off his face, though, when the first of the tremors rattle through him.

He barely makes it into the rooms and his helmet off before he falls to his knees, shivers racking through his whole body, so violently that when he’s aware again, he’s on the floor with no idea how he ended up there.

After a few minutes, he finally feels confident enough to stand up, only to clutch at his throat. His hands scrabble at nothing, but something is choking him, _he can feel it, he thought there were no other Force-users on the ship, he’s going to die_ –

He doesn’t have enough time to feel grateful when the choking abates; because it’s almost immediately replaced by screams of suffering that seem to echo in his very core. He claps his hands over his ears, but of course it does absolutely nothing to lessen the agony, and he finds himself back on the floor for the second time in so many hours.

Distantly, his eyes find the bottle of liquor on his desk. He had been saving it for emergencies, but surely this counts as one. The least it can do is lessen this torture slightly. He raises the bottle to his lips, taking a careful swallow and preparing to put it back in its place, only for another wave of anguish to hit him.

He takes another large gulp of alcohol as he braces himself against his bed, smiling grimly. Surely the pain can’t go on for too long.

 

* * *

 

 

Hux comes to on a floor and for a moment mistakes it for Ren’s memory. But there’s a groan across from him, and when he levers himself up, there’s Ren.

Without removing his eyes from Ren, Hux grabs the bottle and gulps down at least half of what remains. It can’t erase the sensation of fingers gripping his neck, slowly squeezing all breath out and blocking any air from returning.

And that – that was only a memory. How would it have felt if it had actually happened to him? Probably a lot like an assassination attempt, he supposed.

Ren takes the alcohol back and knocks back the rest, tossing the now empty bottle aside, all while never taking his eyes off Hux, either. If Hux believed in Jedi and Sith and all their divine squabbles, he would call it the Force wavering between their locked gazes. If he was a romantic, he would call it attraction, buzzing around them like an angry insect, though neither of them acknowledge it. But Hux is both an engineer and a general, and so he calls it something like electricity, or magnetism, or gravity that comes between them and brings them unstoppably together.

He can’t even find it in himself to be surprised when Ren awkwardly lurches forward and into him, seeking his mouth. Kriff, Ren’s lips are at least as soft as they look, and he makes the most delicious sounds against Hux’s mouth and he can’t get enough –

Ren backs away, helmet under his arm and already half out the door. His pupils are blown wide and his lips are swollen and an indecent pink, and Hux can’t quite stop his mouth from dropping open at the sight.

‘See on the bridge, General Hux,’ Ren says, and snaps the worst salute Hux has ever seen. But it doesn’t matter, because his throat is dry anyway, and he might just be looking forward to that particular shift.

Hux gets to his feet, thinks for a moment before letting out a dry chuckle. He sits at his desk and pours some of his fine whiskey – nothing like Ren’s tasteless liquor – and thinks.

All in all, he can’t really say he regrets it. He might’ve done bad things, but it did after all gain him a bad man.

No, Hux considers as he delicately sips from his glass, he can’t say he regrets it at all.


End file.
